Trois
by starsshouldshine
Summary: This is my re-writing of season three, with a major focus on Clexa.
1. Chapter 1

"I think we deserve a drink."

At any other time Clarke might have marveled at this quality of Bellamy's — at his ability to reduce any situation to a simple survival scenario. She might've wondered whether he was really as flippant as he seemed, so easily able to minimize such a traumatic experience to nothing more than a bad dream. But in this moment, on this day, she didn't wonder.

She didn't wonder whether her mother would heal quickly, or whether Jasper's anger would fade slowly. She didn't wonder whether the victims of Mount Weather had felt any pain, or whether Lexa had felt any guilt. She didn't wonder whether her people were grateful for her actions…or horrified. She didn't wonder anything, didn't feel anything, didn't see anything. She didn't hear anything until the sound of her own voice brought her back to this moment. "Have one for me."

They didn't look at each other. Maybe because they couldn't look at each other. Two hands had pulled that lever down, bringing death to innocent lives, and now four eyes stared evenly out over the lives they had saved, like shepherds wearily watching their flock after a bad storm. "Hey, we'll get through this."

A sense of relief washed over her as she realized what would happen next, as she realized that there was an alternative to walking through that gate, to going home. Another choice. A better choice. A safer one. "I'm not going in."

"Look - if you need forgiveness I'll give that to you." Forgiveness. The word rang so hollow in Clarke's ears she almost laughed. "You're forgiven. Please come inside."

His dark eyes scanned hers, looking for something to connect to, looking for a way to pull her back to shore. Eventually she looked away, unable to stand his pleading expression any longer. The forgiveness that he was offering… Well it wasn't his to give away, and even if it were - every part of her being rejected it.

"Take care of them for me."

Her mind was made up, and the resolution in her voice at that moment scared him. "Clarke -"

"Seeing their faces every day," her voice cracked at just the mere thought of it. "It's just going to remind me of what I did to get them here."

He didn't miss a beat. For as quick as she was to shoulder this responsibility, he was equally as quick to try to take his share of the weight. "What we did. You don't have to do this alone."

Light eyes looked away, back at her people. They were torn and tattered, beaten and bruised, but the pain that Clarke felt rising inside of her was a different kind of pain. It could not be sterilized and sewn shut. It could not be silenced by Bellamy's sweet, ignorant pleadings. For now it rose as a dull ache, but she felt it growing with more defiance than anything she had ever experienced before. It screamed for her to flee, to run away with the weight of what they had become, to protect everyone from it. She turned back to face him. "I bear it so they don't have to."

So you don't have to. It went unsaid, but she thought it. Bellamy was a soldier in every sense of the word. Where he was made up of loyalty and bravery, Clarke was made of thoughtfulness and deliberacy. It was why they worked so well together. Her consciousness coupled with his drive — it made for an unstoppable force. But some forces should be stopped.

"Where are you gonna go?" He shook his head, realization washing over him that this was happening.

It doesn't matter. Anywhere but here. "I don't know."

And then there was silence for just one beat. Resignation creeped into his dark eyes. She leaned in to gently kiss his cheek, and he grabbed her tightly.

Anyone else Bellamy might've tossed over his shoulder and carried inside, but not Clarke. He respected her too much to deprive her of this choice, even if it was a mistake. Before he could object further, her heavy words fell upon his ears, thick with grief and the threat of tears. "May we meet again."

With that, a slight nod, and nothing more - she turned and walked away. He did not watch her go. Maybe because he couldn't. Maybe because almost every fiber of his being wanted to yell no, wanted to drag her back to camp kicking and screaming. Maybe because a few small fibers of his being wanted to go with her, and if he turned to watch her walk away…maybe his feet might follow. So he looked back at camp instead.

"May we meet again."

For the first time since they had landed on the ground, Clarke wandered into the woods without worry and without fear. She had no purpose, no mission, no agenda, no responsibilities, and no priorities. Out here, the rules were simple.

In fact, there was just one: survive. Or don't. And while she hadn't resigned herself to the latter quite yet, figuring out how she was going to accomplish the former seemed like a herculean task when simply drawing breath took so much effort.

She thought about heading to the Drop Ship, or to the bunker. But the sudden flood of memories from both places were suddenly too much to bear.

She glanced over her shoulder upon reaching the treeline, making sure that she was out of sight. While the Arc rose large and visible, the people beneath it scurried around. They looked no bigger than ants. Even with this little distance between them, she felt relief. She craved more of it. But as she walked, the past fell into step alongside her.

Finding Wells' cold dead body on the outskirts of camp, black blood dried on his neck…

The second it took to steady her breath before sliding the knife silently into Finn's heart, hearing Raven scream in the distance…

The look of steady resignation on Lexa's face before she retreated into the night, taking all semblance of hope along with her…

Clarke squeezed her eyes shut, a futile attempt to shut out the memories of those she had lost.

May we meet again. May we meet again. May we meet again.

* * *

It was the middle of the night when they returned to Polis. The ride had taken two days. There were no cheers, no gracious homecoming. They were no longer an army. The majority of those saved from the Reaping had broken off along the way to return to their villages. The clan soldiers had gone with them.

Lexa returned to her pseudo-capital with only her guards and a few victims of the Reaping who had no home to return to. She had no words of encouragement or solace for these people, no desire to hold their hands and help them find their way. Someone else could bear that burden.

The leader in her felt content — successful, even. But the unknown fate of Clarke and Skaikru gnawed at her from the inside. She pushed it down somewhere deep away, and found Titus pacing in the hallway when she arrived at her chambers.

"Leave me," she mumbled, pushing open the door to her bedroom and letting it fall closed between them. But Titus could not be deterred from his duty so easily. He followed her, resuming his pacing within her room. She sat upon the edge of her bed, head falling into her dirty aching hands. "Please, Titus, not tonight."

"Is it done?" His words were rushed, hurried.

"Our people are safe," she answered firmly, lifting her gaze her meet his. Her light eyes dared him to challenge her. "The Reaping has ended."

He knew better than to accept her ambiguity. "The Mountain Men?"

She heaved a sigh. "I'm tired. We've been riding for days. The philosophical differences that exist between us will still be ripe for debate tomorrow."

"Unacceptable, Lexa!" His deep voice bellowed throughout the large space, pale face turning red with anger. "JUS DREIN JUS DAUN!"

Lexa raised a brow at his tone. When she spoke, it was soft. "You should proceed carefully, old man."

He sighed in exasperation. "I told you before you left. Leaving this act unpunished is against the will of the Commanders! You cannot —"

"I can!" She bit back through clenched teeth, standing to face him. "And I did. It made no sense to risk the lives of our people for nothing more than vengeance once their safety was secured."

Silence settled in between between them for a moment, and Lexa took this opportunity to clean up. She strode over to her vanity and poured some water from a pitcher into a bowl, scooping some into her open palms, and leaning down to splash it on her face. The blackness spread slowly across her skin, streaming down to her jawline as she reached for a nearby cloth.

"And Skaikru?"

The quiet question made her stomach drop. She wiped the cloth across her face before dipping it back into the water and wiping away the black again. It faded. The memory of Clarke's face, crushed at her betrayal did not. "Dead, probably."

"Good," Titus mumbled beneath his breath.

She spun around on her heels, incredulous at his response. "Good? Have some respect."

"Lexa, why can't you see? Ever since that girl showed up claiming she could turn Reapers into men —"

"Stop!" Anger bubbled within her, but she swallowed it down, drying her hands before folding the dirtied rag and casting it aside. "It's finished. I'm tired. Leave."

He dropped his head in deference, satisfied at the possibility that the Sky People and the Mountain Men had potentially battled each other into oblivion. "Yes, Lexa."

She kept her back to him as he walked out, and it wasn't until she heard the door swing shut that she sent the ceramic pitcher flying into a wall. It broke with a large crash, sending tiny shards scattered across the open floor.

* * *

Clarke had been walking for days when she finally found it. It was a small structure, relatively modest and standing alone. Her growing thirst and hunger screamed at her to enter, to beg whoever occupied that hut for food and water.

But she knew better.

So she waited. She stayed hidden, tucked under the brush and out of sight. She watched people come and go. The visitors appeared to be of all different clans. They were warriors and beggars, teens and elders — but they all had one thing in common. They'd arrive with one thing, and leave with another.

A day went by, and then two. She slept a little, always snapping awake at the slightest sound. From what she could tell there were two permanent residents of this place: an older man and a younger woman. She hadn't been able to discern their relationship yet.

On the morning of the second day Clarke watched the young woman exit the hut and give a loaf of bread to a small, dirty little girl. The child gave her nothing in return, but ate the bread hungrily. The man came out, realized what had happened, and smacked the young woman across the face for it. The little girl ran off. Clarke flinched.

"That is not how we live."

His voice was gruff, stern. The two stared evenly at each other for a moment before he turned and went striding off into the forest. The young woman raised a hand to her face and touched the cut beneath her eye.

Clarke didn't think. She stood, and walked out into the clearing.

"Can I look at that for you?"

The young woman raised a brow curiously — both at the use of English and at the odd appearance of this stranger. She shrugged, smirking gently.

"Look all you want. Unless you have magic eyes it will not disappear."

Clarke's lips turned up into a soft smile at the joke. When she got a closer look at the cut her smile disappeared, replaced by a frown. "That needs a stitch or two. When is your husband coming back?"

The woman laughed. "He's my father, and not until tomorrow."

Clarke nodded. She took a step back and crossed her arms over her chest before clearing her throat uncomfortably. "I, um, I need some food, but I don't have anything to trade for it."

"Sure you do," the trader's daughter replied. She walked towards the door of the hut and motioned for Clarke to follow. "You said something about a stitch?"

* * *

"Lexa. Come back to bed."

The feminine voice was thick with sleep as it floated across the large room. Weeks ago Lexa might have smiled at the sound of it. But things were different now. She was hearing rumors. Rumors that the Mountain had fallen, rumors that hundreds of Sky People had returned to the Arc, rumors that the infamous fair haired peacekeeper had not been among them.

"Are they talking to you?"

Lexa turned away from the window to face her bed, and to face the dark haired woman lying there on her stomach. The blankets had fallen down to the small of her back, and the faint moonlight moved on her tan shoulders when she propped herself up onto her elbows.

Lexa shook her head. "No, Si. They don't come to me when you're here."

A quiet laugh. "Aw. Don't they like me, the former Commanders?"

Lexa smirked, walking over to the bed and sitting on the edge of it. She walked her fingers slowly up the other girl's forearm. "What's not to like?"

The brunette sat up in the bed and shrugged one shoulder, pulling her arm away from playful touches in the process. "I've been waiting for you to tell me that for years."

Lexa sighed. "Sienna I've told you, it's not safe —"

"Please," she scoffed, rolling her eyes. "At least respect me enough not to lie to me."

Lexa shook her head and stood back up, striding back over to the window and looking out over to Polis. "What do you want me to say, Si? It's lonely."

A silent beat. The sound of rustling blankets and then bare feet shuffling across the cold hard floor.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

Sienna stood next to Lexa at the window, both of them gazing out of it.

"I am. I know how hard you've fought. But you did it, Lexa. Our people have never known peace like this."

"It came with a price," Lexa mumbled. Her head dropped slightly at the thought of Clarke's face, pleading with her to stay and to fight at the Mountain.

"Costia knew the risk."

Lexa's brow furrowed momentarily at the name, snapping her back into the moment. Guilt came rushing through her veins. She squeezed her eyes shut, attempting to shut out the ghost of her lost love. But it was too late. She could feel Costia's presence descending upon the room.

"Hey," Sienna crooned, turning to examine Lexa's face. "What is it?"

"Nothing," Lexa snapped. "You should go. It will be light soon."

Sienna stood silently, turning her choices over in her mind. She had known Lexa for a long time. Long before she became Commander, and even before she had been identified as a Nightblood. There had never been any coming between Lexa and Costia, and it seemed that that was still true — even in the face of death.

So she resigned. She walked back over to the bed, slipped into her clothes, and headed for the door. When she got there, she stopped and glanced over her shoulder at the girl standing at the window.

"Lexa," her voice was quiet, reverent even. "She forgives you."

The door closed, and Lexa fell softly to her knees. For a second she swore she could hear Costia's steady breath behind her. She closed her eyes in an attempt to escape from it. But all she could see was Clarke's face again. The blonde's girls expression went from confusion to desperation to fear.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, head shaking as the tears rolled down her face.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."


	2. Chapter 2

"I saw what you did earlier," Clarke mumbled, sterilizing the needle that the stranger had provided her with. "Giving that little girl something to eat. That was very kind of you."

The two women were alone together in the back of the trading post, sitting across from each other on the floor. It was getting dark out, and the space was lit only by a few stray candles.

"Does that surprise you?"

Clarke looked up, lifting a brow in curiosity. "Does what surprise me?"

"Kindness."

Clarke thought for a second and then shrugged, turning her attention back to her work. She threaded the needle silently and scooted closer to her patient when she was done. "This is going to hurt a bit."

"Most good things do," the older woman replied, wincing only slightly as Clarke sewed the needle through the skin under her eye.

They sat in silence for a moment. Clarke worked slowly and purposefully at the task in front of her. Her hand twitched a bit in surprise when a question snapped her out of her concentration.

"Why does it surprise you?"

A beat.

"Your world hasn't been very kind to mine," Clarke mumbled through gritted teeth, immediately regretting her choice of words. She kept a straight face in hopes that her companion would not pick up on it.

No such luck.

" _My_ world?"

"What's your name?" Clarke replied, dodging the question with one of her own.

"Niylah."

"That's a nice name."

"And yours?"

Clarke pursed her lips as she pulled the needle to the left, eyes flittering to meet those in front of her for only a second before returning to focus on her work.

"Just as I thought," Niylah replied, a smile playing on her mouth. Her green eyes scanned Clarke's face, trying to discern what was hidden beneath there. "You know, I'm not sure I've ever seen hair as light as yours."

"No?"

Clarke was only half-listening. Her brows furrowed in concentration as she pulled the needle to the right.

"No." Niylah chose her next words carefully. "If you were running from something… or from _someone_ … It might draw attention to you."

This caught the blonde's attention, but she made no sign of it as she finished her work on the stitch in silence.

"There," she mumbled, snipping the final piece and tying it off. "Cut them off in a few days, but no more than five. Don't use dirty tools."

Niylah smiled, and reached up to touch her modest wound. Clarke swatted her hand away gently.

"No dirty hands, either."

"So many rules," Niylah quipped back, pushing her hands down to the ground to help herself stand. Clarke stood as well. "Why don't you get some rest while I cook?"

Clarke tilted her head slightly. "Um, no. Thank you. I hadn't planned on staying… Maybe just something I could travel with?"

"Nonsense," Niylah replied, shaking her head. "Aren't you tired of sleeping on the forest floor? Plus, I want to hear all about this kinder, gentler world of yours."

Clarke sighed and crossed her arms over her chest. She glanced over to the bed warily, as if something lethal might come out from under its covers. When she turned to argue back, Niylah was gone. The sounds of steel pots clattering came from the other room. Clarke looked at the bed again.

A little rest could be good, she decided. She laid down carefully on the bed, eyes falling shut with sleep faster than the water for dinner could even boil.

—-

"Commander! Commander!"

A dozen or so children rushed in Lexa's direction, their little voices yelling in excitement, little footsteps kicking up dust beneath them.

It was one of Lexa's favorite things to do these days, to walk the streets of Polis with no aim and no purpose.

Lexa smiled brightly when the children reached her. Some tugged eagerly at her tattered black cloak, others stood back in awe.

"Heya," Lexa greeted, foregoing the common tongue for Trigedasleng.

Their shining, youthful faces brought her back to another time. A time when she had first come to Polis as a young Nightblood. The capital was nothing like her home, with its dull gray buildings and its broken glass. Sometimes she longed for the lush greens and dark blues of her childhood home. She often caught herself craving the relative simplicity of Trikru life.

But the voices in her head quickly pushed those desires away, like they had done and continued to do with so many other desires. They echoed words like duty and calling, and Lexa found herself squeezing her eyes shut momentarily in an attempt to quiet them.

"Heda! Heda!" One of the taller girls was bouncing up and down on her toes, tugging on Lexa's arm. A guard reached out to swat the girl's hand away and Lexa scowled at him disapprovingly. The girl didn't seem phased though. "Tell us about the Mountain!"

The small cluster of kids erupted in support of that idea.

"Alright, alright. Quiet down."

The children immediately went silent and sat down in the middle of the street, laser focused on the figure in front of them. The immediacy of their attention caught Lexa slightly off guard, but she cleared her throat and began the story anyway.

"The Mountain Men have been hunting us since the days of the First Commander. Legend has it that —"

"Are you trying to give them nightmares?!"

A familiar voice snapped Lexa out of her storytelling, and she blinked as she watched Sienna stride towards their small group. The girl from earlier groaned loudly, and stomped her feet as Sienna took her by the hand.

"Mommmm!"

Lexa's face narrowed in confusion, but then went straight again when she caught Sienna's glare.

"Off you go," Sienna directed, gently shoving the kids away. "All of you. Go play."

They all groaned this time, but quickly obliged and wandered off down the street to find the next most exciting thing. Sienna sidled up to Lexa, shaking her head.

"I know you don't know any better but they're too young for that kind of thing."

Lexa scoffed. "When I was their age I was already in training! I was fighting boys twice my size, and winning. I was learning the will of the Commanders. I was —"

"Maybe that's why you're so damaged," Sienna shot back.

Lexa's eyes fell to the ground and Sienna reached out to tilt her chin back up gently. "'m sorry. That was an awful thing to say."

Lexa shook her head. "No. You're right. The way I treated you the other night was…"

She sighed, one shoulder shrugging in defeat. "I didn't even know you had a daughter."

Sienna smiled lightly, dropping her hand from Lexa's chin. "There's a lot you don't know about me."

"Apparently so," Lexa agreed, grateful for the playful look she was seeing playing on the other woman's face.

"Come on," Sienna encouraged, nodding her head in the direction of her home. "I have something to show you."

—-

"Where did you get this?!" Titus yelled, his deep voice booming within the throne room.

"A friend," Lexa replied simply, staring at the letter that Sienna had given her, that Titus was now opening.

"My dearest cousin," Titus read out loud, practically panting for breath between words. "I hope this scroll finds you safe. I fear for you after learning that the Leaders of the 12 Clans are riding for Polis. The Commander's weakness at the Mountain has angered them and they intended to remove her from the throne if justice is not done."

Titus groaned, eyes rolling into the back of his head. "I warned you of this, Lexa! JUS DREIN JUS DAUN!"

"I will explain to them when they arrive," Lexa replied calmly, removing a knife from her waist and sliding the pad of her thumb across its blade.

"There is no explaining, no reasoning with these men," Titus argued back, exasperated. "You promised them blood."

"I promised them their people back, and I made good on that promise."

"Only one half of the bargain," Titus replied, shaking his head as he returned his attention to reading Sienna's letter. "Cousin, you should return to Tondc immediately. The Clans intend to wage war with the Sky People. As they see it, Skaikru had the strength to do what the Commander did not. I fear that war is imminent. Come home."

Titus refolded the letter and gazed up at Lexa. "Do you see what you've done?"

"Freed the victims of the Reaping without spilling a drop of our blood?"

Her face hardened in defiance and his softened lightly.

"Your weakness gave them room to show \ strength. Skaikru took down the Mountain. They did what you could not."

"What I _would_ not," Lexa clarified through clenched teeth.

She stood from the throne and walked over to the window, looking thoughtfully at the ground below. "We don't know that they conquered the Mountain. Maybe the Mountain conquered them. Maybe the Sky People are no more."

She tried to hide the sadness in her voice at the thought of it. Luckily Titus's anger barred him from picking up on it.

"Then you should ride," he offered quickly. "A leader's only weapon is not her sword, Heda. It is her mind as well. We must know the fate of Skaikru. If they prosper, that must be dealt with in one way or another. I will stall the Clans when they arrive."

Lexa's stomach turned at the thought of riding to Arcadia. The voices in her head began to swirl, to question, to nag. She shoved her hands into her pockets and kept her back to Titus. "Leave me. I need to think."

He dipped his head slightly and retreated. Once the door fell shut she sat, and she listened.

[One week later.]

The loud snap of a twig snapped Clarke out of sleep, and she leapt to her feet.

"Relax," Niylah laughed, setting down a basket she had brought with her.

Clarke sighed and dropped her head, setting down the spear that she hadn't even realized she had grabbed.

"Your cave looks nice," Niylah joked, pulling her hair around to the front and tying it together messily. "Very homey."

Clarke rolled her eyes, glancing down to the mess of blankets she called a bed. Sound came flooding back into the space now that her fight instincts were quieting down. A small stream of water gurgled outside, and a few birds chirped their greetings from the trees.

She shook her head lightly as she walked toward Niylah, attempting to rid the sleep from her brain faster than it wanted to leave. Light eyes gazed carefully on a small scar. It was all that remained from the cause of their initial encounter.

"Looks good," Clarke explained. A pause. "I'm not sure why you're still bringing me food. I have nothing left to give you."

"Kindness," Niylah replied, shrugging. "Remember? And maybe something else another time."

Clarke's brow furrowed in confusion at the vague comment, but she didn't ask and Niylah didn't push it so the suggestion just sort of floated away with the wind.

"I came to warn you actually," Niylah clarified, clearing her throat. "The Commander's guard will be crossing through here soon. You should stay inside today."

Clarke's jaw must have dropped because Niylah picked up on her surprise immediately. "Is that who you're hiding from?"

"I told you I'm not…" Clarke shook her head in frustration, not wanting to go into specifics. "Nevermind. Will she be with them?"

"Who?" Niylah asked, eyes narrowing.

"Lexa!" Clarke all but yelled.

Niylah took another step forward and placed a hand gently on Clarke's forearm. "How do you know the Commander?"

"It doesn't matter," Clarke mumbled, pulling her arm away.

"It seems to be the _only_ thing that matters - to _you_."

They stood facing each other in silence.

"You should leave," Clarke explained, finally. "And stay away. Knowing me will only bring you pain. Thank you for the kindness."

Niylah sighed quietly, allowing her gaze to meet Clarke's for a moment before dropping her head in agreement. "Alright."

She made her way towards the entrance of the cave, stopping at its threshold to cast one last glance over her shoulder. "You never told me your name."

"No. I didn't."

Niylah laughed quietly at the other girl's stubbornness. "Come see me when you learn to hunt and have something to trade."

With that, she was gone. Clarke went to work immediately.

She removed a knife from her under the blankets and stepped outside. She sat down near the stream and began sharpening the weapon on a smooth round stone that she found in the water. She was careful to wet her blade often, just like Lincoln had taught her.

Blue eyes looked up at the sun. She should have asked Niylah for more information. What time were they coming? How many would there be? If Clarke was honest with herself, she would have realized that it really didn't matter. Thoughts of revenge had consumed her ever since she had pulled that lever down and brought death to hundreds of innocent people.

Clarke picked up a nearby palm. Her blade sliced through it neatly and effortlessly. She stood, dusted off her knees, and headed back in to her cave to wait.

—-

"Here," Lexa yelled out, hearing the sound of running water nearby. Her bone and leather clad two-men cavalry halted their horses immediately and jumped down. Their heavy boots made large thuds on the ground. Lexa jumped down as well. She handed her reigns to one of the men. "Water the horses. We'll camp here for the night."

"Yes, Heda."

Lexa took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Her head was silent, the voices of the former Commanders dull to nonexistent in the moment. She preferred it this way. As lonely as she often felt, their Spirits made it challenging for her to be truly alone.

She held a hand up when the other one of her men attempted to follow her into the forest. "Leave me."

He stayed back on the road.

—-

Clarke was sitting in her cave waiting when she heard the sounds of hooves nearby. She creeped to the opening and peeked outside, able to get a view of a Grounder warrior leading horses to the stream. She couldn't be sure that this was who she'd been waiting for, but she had to try.

Clarke crept through the forest, making her best efforts to be silent. The sun had gone down over the ridge hours ago. The glowing moon and twinkling stars provided the only light.

Still, she had no doubts about who she was seeing when her light eyes fell on the figure out a slender woman. Her breath caught in her throat, and she had to inhale deeply to get it back.

Lexa was kneeling, alone, eyes closed, in the middle of the forest.

What was she doing?

Clarke looked around warily, but saw no signs of the Commander's guards. Her fingers wrapped around the freshly sharpened knife sitting at her waist. She weighed her options. Lexa would certainly hear her coming. She could throw it, but was not exactly confident in her accuracy and skill for something like that.

Suddenly, a flock of birds flew up from the trees. Something had started them. There seemed to be hundreds. Their unexpected flight was loud, and chaotic, and…distracting.

Clarke saw her opportunity and seized it. She ran up behind Lexa, who's eyes had fluttered open in surprise. Clarke wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pressed the knife tightly to her throat.

 _Clarke_. The voices in Lexa's head breathed the name quietly, and she couldn't help but smile at the sound of it.

"…You're alive."

"No thanks to you," Clarke mumbled, wondering only for a second how the other woman knew it was her. Her blue eyes glanced nervously around the open, dark space.

"They're not coming," Lexa explained calmly. "I asked them to stay away."

Clarke said nothing. She pressed her teeth together tightly, jaw flexing in the process. Her fingers twitched around the handle of the blade.

"Killing me will not give you peace, Clarke. I told you when we burned Finn's body. The pain will never go away."

She pressed the blade of the knife tighter to Lexa's throat. A small stream of blood flowed from that area as a result. Lexa exhaled softly.

"This is not who you are."

"You have no idea who I am."

"But I do. You and I the same, Clarke. We put our people first. Killing me may be best for you, but it is not what is best for them. As soon as I am removed from the throne the 12 Clans will remove Skaikru from this Earth. Don't be selfish."

Lexa sensed Clarke's guard drop ever so slightly at this information. She jabbed her elbow backwards into the blonde's ribs and drew both swords off of her back in one clean movement. Clarke was sitting on the ground, blinking her eyes, stunned at the turn of events.

Lexa dropped her swords to the ground and extended an arm in Clarke's direction.

"Come with me. We could accomplish so much together."

"I killed all of them!" Clarke cried, her voice breaking slightly. "I had to kill everyone in that Mountain, because of you! Because you ran away!"

"Should I have killed them for you?" Lexa asked softly, extended arm falling back to her side. "Was that the plan?"

Clarke blinked and shook her head in disbelief, blonde curls falling around her dirtied face.

"It was us against them," Lexa explained quietly. "Our interests against theirs. We won. YOU won. You should be proud."

Proud.

Clarke's stomach turned with rage at the word. She kicked her foot out and connected with Lexa's shin, causing the Commander to lose her balance for a moment. Clarke shot up and tackled her at the waist, bringing them both crashing to the ground, Clarke on top of Lexa, forearm lodged against her throat.

"There's only one person I'll be proud to have killed."

She let her body weight lean down onto her arm, cutting off Lexa's air supply in the process.

"Heda!"

A loud male voice rang through the forest, and Clarke's head spun around looking for the source.

"Go," Lexa choked out. "Run."

Clarke eased back a bit, conflicted. She noticed that Lexa's hands had stayed down by her side. Why wasn't she fighting back?

"If they see you I won't be able to stop them from killing you…"

Clarke's blue eyes gazed intently into Lexa's green ones. She felt no hatred there. She felt strength and serenity. She felt a presence greater than them both rise up between them.

And in that moment she was taken somewhere else. She was seeing a small hut, and a brown haired woman standing at the doorway. She saw a small girl run to her mother. She saw the girl's strong and serene green eyes. She saw an army come and take the girl. Saw black blood dripping from a flesh wound on her arm as they carried her away on horseback. She saw Lexa as who she was and who she had always been.

"Go."

Lexa's voice snapped Clarke out of what she would have called a daydream.

"What the hell was that?"

"My Spirit," Lexa explained quietly. "Their Spirit."

"HEDA!"

The voice was louder now, closer. Clarke scrambled off of Lexa and ran as fast as she could, as far as she could.


End file.
